Hey, Preston! Make sure you get him behind the ears! Ha-ha-ha-ha. What’s the matter, Mitch? Don’t you like water sports?

I hated sports. I hated sports, and I hated people who played them, and I hated people who watched them, and I hated people who didn’t hate people who watched or played them.

A barber is by nature and inclination a sport. He can tell you at what exact hour the ball game is to begin, can foretell its issue without losing a stroke of the razor, and can explain the points of inferiority of all the players, as compared with the better men that he has personally seen elsewhere, with the nicety of a professional.

The barbershop is the ultimate cool-kid destination, where sports, music, and men’s grooming converge under one roof.

This is a barbershop, not a hair salon. You come in here not trying to impress anyone. It’s a place just to talk, to hang out with the fellows, talk about sports, women, relationships.

Sometimes, however, the Gaelic blood asserts itself. The Frenchmen will then attack. But the French attacking spirit is like bottled lemonade. It lacks tenacity. The Englishmen, on the other hand, one notices that they are of Germanic blood. Sportsmen easily take to flying, and Englishmen see in flying nothing but a sport.

The reason why Englishmen are the best husbands in the world is because they want to be faithful. A Frenchman or an Italian will wake up in the morning and wonder what girl he will meet. An Englishman wakes up and wonders what the cricket score is.

The Englishman never enjoys himself except for a noble purpose. He does not play cricket because it is a good game, but because it creates good citizens. He does not love motor-races for their own sake, but for the advantages they bring to the engineering firms of his country. And it is common knowledge that the devoted persons who conduct and regularly attend horse-races do not do so because they like it, but for the benefit of the breed of the English horse.

Let’s face it, guys, after midnight, this whole f**king place turns into a pumpkin, and you guys all turn back into mice. This is a classic Cinderella tale here. You know, Peter Pan will no longer be a man, he’ll turn into a real boy. George Washington will never be able to cut down the beanstalk. You guys will eventually just go back to bein’ the shittiest Mexican baseball team in Mexico.

The Englishmen is at his best on the links and at his worst in the Cabinet.

Rugby is a game for the mentally deficient… That is why it was invented by the British. Who else but an Englishman could invent an oval ball?

The Jeep is the only true American sports, or we can say a car.

We can do some f**king great things tonight, you guys. Follow me. Walk with me out onto that field. And when you do, you will f**king put your ass out, and you raise your f**king head up.

I play real sports. Not trying to be the best at exercising. F*ck this guy.

Oddly enough, the people here aren’t that different from the ones back home, when you get past the lack of interest in real sports, and the need to have yellow rice at every f**kin’ meal.

Yeah, I’ve actually had multiple orgasms on jet skis. Maybe it’s something in our blood that we can just ya know, get hard from riding f**kin’ badass ya know, terrain vehicles water crafts.